


You've made a very good point.

by BlindCupid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Creepy, F/M, Female Severus Snape, Jewish Snape, Nazi Tom Riddle, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicide, Violence, fem!snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlindCupid/pseuds/BlindCupid
Summary: Please proceed with caution and heed the tags!Inspired by Ralph Fiennes's performance in Schindler's List.Here's a link to the scene:Amon Goeth-Helen Hirsch sceneand while I did borrow the monologue, this is Tom/Sev and not Amon/Helen- just wanted to clarify, because the chemistry and dynamics are going to be a little different.
Relationships: Tom Riddle/Severina Snape, Tom Riddle/Severus Snape
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83





	You've made a very good point.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授权翻译】你说得很对](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25867018) by [BlackTea39](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackTea39/pseuds/BlackTea39)



> Please proceed with caution and heed the tags!
> 
> Inspired by Ralph Fiennes's performance in Schindler's List. 
> 
> Here's a link to the scene: [Amon Goeth-Helen Hirsch scene](https://youtu.be/I7vXc2HsMZg)  
> and while I did borrow the monologue, this is Tom/Sev and not Amon/Helen- just wanted to clarify, because the chemistry and dynamics are going to be a little different.

_Clack…_

_Clack…_

_Clack…_

Severina listened to his footsteps heavy on the stairs. Her stomach twisted into a painful knot and she shivered in her damp slip. She moved from her cold cot in the dank cellar and stood at attention— waiting.

_Clack…_

She swallowed down the sick rising in her throat.

_Clack…_

She let her face go vacant.

_Clack…_

She didn’t look him in the eye. Instead, she kept her eyes forward, watching him vaguely from the edge of her vision. He leaned heavily, swayed slightly, and gripped the door frame. He pushed off and paced in front of her,

“So this is where you come to hide from me.” He said.

His voice didn’t slur as much as she expected. He walked toward her but passed right by and circled behind her,

“I came to tell you that you really are a wonderful cook... and well-trained servant.”

He was careful not to touch her, she noted. Not even the fabric of his shirt grazed her prickling skin.

It reminded her of the time he apologized for the smell outside. He had looked sincere, smiled shyly, and sweetly as he offered her a bandana. He had been careful not to touch her even as he tied it around her face. Then he explained the smell was from the piling pyres of Jewish corpses.

“I mean it. If you n-need a reference after the war, I’d be happy to give you one.”

He stood before her now and smiled at her like a perfect gentleman. Like putting on a mask, he could slip on charm and he would be the most decent of gentlemen —polite and well-mannered— until he tore it off and there would be a dozen Jews dead at his feet.

He preferred to leave the mask on, more often than not, and Severina wondered if he had convinced himself it was his real face.

“It must get lonely down here, listening to everyone upstairs having such a good time.” He said.

He was restless, moving around like he couldn't decide how close he wanted to be to her or whether or not he wanted to look at her.

“Does it?” He asked— his voice hardened as if her answer could break his heart.

Not that he had one.

“You can answer.” He assured her, but Severina remained silent.

There was no point. It would be a waste of breath. He would beat her anyway. No matter what she said or did or didn’t do. The only ending to this conversation would the end of his fist and Severina knew it.

It was the only time he let his skin touch hers.

“But ‘what’s the right answer?’– that’s what you’re thinking. ‘What does he want to hear?’” He murmured to himself as he circled her once and stood at her side studying her profile.

He confused her more than any other person she ever met. He was kind and he was cruel; he was charming and he was vile; he was gentle and he was violent.

She shivered with cold and exhaustion from serving him all day and now he stood so close she could feel the heat of his body rolling off of him.

“The truth, Severina, is always the right answer.” He said.

Truth? Did he even believe his own truth? Commandant Tom Riddle was an intelligent and capable Nazi- certainly efficient at killing Jews. Did it eat away at him at night, that his own foundational truth was not as logical as he’d like to believe?

What did Nazi’s know about truth? They were taught only to obey and not question. Truth cannot be true if it cannot be validated, and it cannot be validated if it cannot be questioned.

“Y-yes you’re right, sometimes we’re both lonely. Yes... I-I mean…”

He turned and walked away from her.

He was warring with himself. She had never seen him so indecisive before. In a quick stride, he approached her, head bowed and for a moment Severina thought he was going to kiss her, but then he turned away from her, his back to her.

“I would like so much to reach out and touch you in your loneliness.”

Loneliness. What did he know about loneliness?

Lily... They had been brought to the Commandant’s Villa together. Severina hadn’t always been lonely here. Not until he had…

He turned back around to face her with that charming smile of his. Severina hated his smile. She hated his charm, his polite speech, and his handsome face. It was all a mask, a façade of humanity to hide the rot inside.

“W-what, what would that be like? I wonder. I-I mean, what would be wrong with that?” He asked with a nervous chuckle.

Lily hadn’t done anything wrong. The Commandant simply decided, one day, that he didn't need two maids.

“I realize you’re not a-a person in the strictest sense of the word but, I... well, maybe you are right about that too, you know? What’s wrong isn’t... it’s not us.” He came before her and gestured between them.

“It’s this.” He looked and gestured vaguely around. Not at the cellar, of course, but at the situation- at the time of history they found themselves in.

He had put a bullet through Lily's head before Severina had even registered that he had pulled his pistol. Severina had screamed, fell to her knees, cradled Lily’s body to her chest, wept, and mourned for her friend. She had prayed that he would put a bullet through her skull as well.

“I mean when we compare you to-to vermin, to rodent, to lice... It’s just a...” He continued talking to himself. Severina listened but distanced herself from his words.

Of course, he hadn’t shot her that day. He simply stood and watched her reaction with amused fascination. That was the day she understood that he would not kill her so swiftly. Oh, he would be the death of her, most certainly, but it wouldn’t be so merciful as a bullet through her head. He would kill her with his bare hands. His skin on her skin, squeezing and crushing, and pulling the life from her.

“Y-y-you make a good point. You’ve made a very good point.” He nodded emphatically and chuckled. He shifted until he stood before her nearly chest to chest.

“Is this the face of a rat?” He swallowed hard and reached out and touched her hair.

“Are these the eyes of a rat?” He brushed her hair at her temples. The first gentle caress he’d ever taken. Her body shiver in revulsion.

“‘Hath a Jew, not eyes?’” He quoted, nodding sensibly.

“I feel for you, Severina.” His hand traveled down her neck, her chest until his palm grazed her puckered nipple. His breath was heavy on her face and his eyes were enraptured at the action of his hand, as though it were acting on its own. His hand pressed more firmly against the soft mound of her breast and cupped her with his fingers.

It would be tonight, Severina realized acutely. Soon, she anticipated, he would wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze.

His other hand found her chin and lifted her as he dipped down. He approached her slowly, tentatively. His breath smelt of whiskey and it was hot on her mouth and chin.

Then his hands fell away and his jaw tightened.

“No. I don’t think so. You’re a Jewish b-bitch. You nearly talked me into it.”

“Didn’t you?”

He was going to hit her, she knew. He was going to beat her, she was sure.

She wanted to make sure he didn’t stop until she was dead. She was so tired of waiting to slip up or for him to finally snap.

So, she looked him in the eyes and the direct eye-contact startled him. With a snake-like strike, she pressed her mouth to his.

She expected him to jerk away or to push her to the ground and kick at her ribs.

But he didn’t.

He moaned and pulled her flush against his chest. Severina grew frustrated at his lack of violence, angry tears fell down her cheeks and she kissed him hard. She gripped the back of his head, scrapped her nailed against his scalp and pulled at his hair painfully.

She expected him to scream cruel slurs at her and hit her across her face until she saw stars.

But he didn’t.

He gasped her name and stroked her face and hair with aching tenderness. She sucked his lip into her mouth and he pressed his hardened manhood against her. She bit down on his lip until she tasted blood.

He did jerk at that, stepping swiftly from her. His hand went up to inspect the pain in his lip and his fingers came back bloody. He huffed in amusement and looked up at her bashfully. His wide boyish grin spread and his teeth were painted red.

He spoke no word but her name, “Severina,” he laughed softly.

Severina never felt such anger before. Her hatred burned through her like wildfire. She felt drunk on it— her thoughts hazy. She saw nothing but the blood on his teeth and wished she could bathe him in it.

He stepped into her again and his lips brushed hers gently, leaving a small smear of blood on her lips.

“Oh Severina, my little viper,” he breathed against her mouth before he kissed her again.

Severina didn’t respond. Her teeth clenched and somewhere in the back of her mind, she cursed herself for her plan backfiring so completely.

She felt the cold air against her skin before she registered the sound of her slip ripping away from her body in a violent tearing motion of his hands. His lips didn’t leave hers as his hands groped her body. He didn’t seem to mind that she was as responsive as a statue as his hand reached for her sex.

Instinctive fear struck Severina and she jumped away from him, out of his reach. She realized quickly that she was cornered and that she had made a worse than fatal-mistake.

The Commandant sucked in his bottom lip and chuckled as his eye roamed over her.

“I seem to have gotten carried away. I am afraid I’ve shown myself to be an impatient brute. What you must think of me.” He said sheepishly.

He approached her slowly with self-control that Severina tried to match. Her body trembled involuntarily with cold and fear, but she straightened her spine and waited.

Once he was in arm’s reach she swung her fist at his face. He ducked away with the swiftness of military training and caught her by the wrist. He spun her so quickly, she thought her wrist might snap in his grasp. He pulled her back against his front and secured her other hand— which was lashing out to claw at his grip.

She tried to throw her head back blindly, hoping to collide with his face, but she merely landed on the meaty muscle of his chest. He was quiet throughout, as though all her efforts were nothing more than a vermin trying to wiggle out of a snare.

He gathered both her wrists in a single fisted grip, pressing her bones painfully together, and lifted her arms above her head. His free hand wrapped around her neck and his fingers squeezed, slowing her blood but allowing air flow.

“Shh…” He soothed in her ear, his cheek pressed against hers.

To her shame, Severina’s lip and chin trembled and tears fell from her eyes. He placed gentle kisses to her temple, her cheek, her jaw, and her neck.

“I want you to remember,’ he said slowly, ‘you started this.”

His hand released her throat and dragged down her front, mapping her naked skin. He took his time on her breasts and her nipples. His mouth latched onto the pulse in her neck, sucking and licking at it.

Severina bit her tongue. _I hate you,_ she thought. Over and over she focused on her hate but remained silent— waiting.

His hand dragged down her stomach and as he neared the patch of hair between her legs, his fingers trembled against her skin. He dropped his forehead against her neck and she could feel his eyes squeeze shut.

“Please,” he begged quietly as his fingers sought her folds and pressed through her dry heat. His grip on her wrists tightened. He thrust his finger into her and pressed his erection into her lower back. “Please, please…” He begged again as he continued his finger’s assault.

Severina tried not to think, tried to empty her mind, and separate herself from her body. She had a plan and not a very good one but it was all she had to hold on to— to keep from breaking.

His finger curled inside of her and slid more easily. _It’s natural_ she reminded herself, _It’s what the body is designed to do._ He groaned and his hips shifted against her, trying to relieve the pressure in his groin. His breath panted hot against her skin and he gasped her name in longing.

He loosened his grip on her wrist and her arms ached and tingled with the numbingly slow flow of blood. Both of his hands left her and for the briefest of breaths, Severina listened for his departing footsteps, but of course, the ridiculous hope was swiftly killed as he pushed her forward and she caught herself as she fell onto the cot.

She flipped herself as fast as she could, not wanting her back to him. He was already on his knees, slipping his arms out of his suspenders and pulling her legs apart so he could settle on top of her. She tried to push against his chest but she only managed to keep him at arm’s length long enough for him to wrap his fingers around her bruising wrists again. He pinned her hands down beside her head and pressed his body down on her, effectively pinning her to the bed.

Helplessness was an all too familiar feeling. As was the bitter taste of submission.

She tried again to separate herself from her body— she ignored his mouth on her skin, his grip on her wrists, the sound of his struggle against the fastenings on his pants. Severina choked on her whimper and turned her face away.

She tried not to notice his fingers probing her again, curling and working her body to moisten. She tried desperately not to feel the burn and sharp tearing pain when he forced himself inside of her. She tried to ignore his voice in her ear but he was calling her name. He said her name over and over, and every time he said her name it was different- like he was cycling through emotions but couldn't figure out which one fit.

She focused on the sounds of the room and tried to ignore his voice and slap of his thrusts. She caught the sound of a dripping pipe and tried to listen to that instead. Until his words changed and he cursed— “Fuck,”— and finally, his violence emerged in the wild pounding of his hips. His body tensed and he groaned low and long. He stilled, his arms buckled and his weight fell on top of her, crushing her.

Eventually, he shifted to tuck himself away and rolled them on the small cot so that he took up most of it and pulled Severina to lay half-way on his chest. He brought her wrist to his lips and gave the abused flesh a gentle kiss before he lay her hand over the slowing beat of his heart.

Severina lay silent and still— waiting.

Once his breathing evened and his hold on her relaxed, she carefully moved off of him. On her feet, she examined him and thought, _no one, who has caused so much pain should look so peaceful when they sleep._ She backed away slowly, keeping her footfalls as silent as possible.

She escaped up the stairs praying to her G-d to keep her feet silent.

———

Tom Riddle dreamt of his little viper- his Severina. He dreamt of her nearly every night since he brought her to the Villa. He smiled, even in his drowsed state, knowing it to be no longer a dream. He tried to reach for her and pull her back onto his chest, but his arms reached only air.

He snapped awake, looking at the empty side of the cot where Severina should have been. He pushed himself up on his elbows, looked toward the foot of the bed, and found the barrel of his Walther P38 staring back at him.

Adrenaline spiked and his training tugged at his body and the back of his mind, but he didn’t move. Instead, he sagged in relief at seeing Severina.

Severina stood before him, her arms taunt, pointing his pistol at him. Her torn slip fell open, exposing her body to him. Even with a gun to his head, his fingers tingled with the desire to reach out and touch her again. Her body had been heaven. Not that he believed in such a thing.

He blinked and wondered why he wasn’t dead yet.

Severina was squeezing the trigger as hard as she could, her knuckles were white with strain. Tears streamed down her face and her chin trembled. Tom cocked his head to the side and Severina followed the movement, keeping the gun pointed at his head.

The safety was on.

Poor thing.

Tom sighed and tried to give her a reassuring smile. He pushed himself to the edge of the cot and Severina stifled a whimper as she continued to squeeze. He feared her finger would break before the trigger gave way.

Tom huffed in frustration.

“This is about the red-head isn’t it?”

Hatred flared over the fear in her eyes. Would she not speak? He wished she would. Her voice haunted him since he first heard it. How could some unevolved Jew possess such beauty in her voice and true intelligence in her eyes? Surely, Severina was different— more developed than others of her kind.

The red-head wasn’t. She was as stupid as the rest and her beauty superficial. He wouldn’t remember her at all if Severina hadn’t reacted the way she had. He had been generous though and had given her the day off.

Oh well. Nothing for it now.

“Give me the gun, please, Severina,” he commanded politely, holding out his hand for it.

She didn’t and he started to feel a bit annoyed at her lack of… anything intelligent. Not that he could expect much different. She was a Jew after all.

He pried the gun from her hand and she stumbled forward and fell to her knees in defeat. Tom let out a heavy breath through his nose and rubbed a hand down his face. There was only one solution to this mess.

He flicked the safety with his thumb and pressed the barrel to Severina’s forehead. She shuddered and her dark eyes turned up to his— fear and hatred settled into relief.

The trigger was still warm from when Severina had tried to bend it to her will.

Tom took a deep breath and swallowed.

“F-fuck,” he spat, “Fuck, I can’t… oh, fuck,” he gasped in despair.

He lowered the gun and went to his knees in front of her. He cupped her jaw as her eyes searched his face widely, wondering why she was still alive. He brushed her cheek with his thumb and regained a semblance of control.

He dropped his hand to press the gun into hers while giving her instruction.

“The safety’s off, it’ll work now. There is a bit of recoil, just to warn you, and the noise will be significant and distinctive. You’ll have little time before someone comes to inspect. If they find you alive, they will want to make an example of you. You don’t want that to happen. I suggest you don’t let them. Do you understand?”

Severina seemed to come alive at his little speech. She was always very good at following directions. She nodded her understanding.

Tom kept hold of her hand and the pistol to their side as he reached up to stroke her hair and touch her face one last time. She merely stared at him— waiting.

“That’s my little viper,” he chuckled fondly.

He pulled her in and kissed her with a fuller understanding of the sweetness in parting sorrow. He pressed his forehead to hers,

“I-I love you, Severina,” he choked out.

“I hate you,” she answered.

Her voice washed over him and brought a burning sensation to his eyes. He lifted his head and pressed his lips to her brow,

“I know,” he assured her.

Tom sat back on his haunches, ran his hand over his hair to smooth it down neatly. Then, he pulled Severina’s hand with the gun and pressed the barrel to his forehead. He stared calmly into her eyes. Her eyes held no fear now— they were surprisingly peaceful.

Tom smiled and said, “Heil Hitler.”

He saw her finger squeeze and the trigger give. He may have heard the _pop_ , he may have felt the violent pressure of the bullet pass through his skull, but that would be last Tom Riddle knew of life.

He would not hear Severina’s last word— _Lily_ or the second _pop_ of his pistol or the _thud_ of her body as it collapsed to the floor.

Neither Tom nor Severina would hear the quick successions of boots on the stairs— _clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack._ Neither would hear the cursing of Nazi guards.

Neither felt the blood drain from their bodies or saw how Tom’s poured over him like a bath of blood or watched as Severina’s pooled around her head like a halo. Neither watched Tom’s blood reach out to Severina’s without quite touching.

If Tom could have seen, Severina would have wondered if he noticed any difference between their blood on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Now go read something happy for me, please?


End file.
